


A Spark Out Dead Flowers

by emoascetic (nerdloved)



Series: Falling and Burning [1]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), The Youngblood Chronicles (Music Video), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Torture, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:31:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4561188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdloved/pseuds/emoascetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red.</p><p>The world was bleeding and when something bleeds, you must staunch the flow.</p><p>Welcome citizen, to Better Living Industries.</p><p>Any intolerance will not be permitted, no matter the cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**[.-.. --- --- -.-]**

In the faint whispers of children’s fairy tales something stirred. Old names covered up by the neon lights, shook nervously. It was more than old names, the bodies of those who had given up all. But that insolence tends to get people taken. A substitute always appears, with no memory of the words, and the cycle continues. Endless wandering for the ages.

The Gift was waiting. It was not impatient, it had been cut violently before.

It could wait.

**[.- .-.. .. ...- .]**

Red.

The world was bleeding and when something bleeds, you must staunch the flow.

Welcome citizen, to Better Living Industries. In the wake of the Catastrophic Event of 2013, the Apocalypse, BetterLiving was created to ensure we would not be left in such ruin ever again. BetterLiving has you at our priority. For your protection, we have ensured that the world will not fall.

We all cannot go out like this.

**[... ..- -. ... .... .. -. .]**

Red. 

Killjoys, make some noise.

**[--. --- --- -.. -... -.-- .]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based super super loosely off the giver/ gathering blue super loose you cant really tell anymore at this point, and a lot of plot points have been changed with everything as im incorporating more stuff. sorry. also format based off Distortions in Time, which i recommend to anyone into the avengers, space, and heavy worldbuilding. i have 3 “books” kind of planned and i hope you like the youngblood chronicles and twenty one pilots in the form of blurryface because they're making an appearance


	2. Tyler Joseph I

**[wake up...]**

August 2018, 5 years after touch down

 **[...my name is…]**  
  
In the city, Tyler Joseph was leaving his one man apartment, making sure to lock his doors and set his feet on every other tile outside his building leading to the station. It was order, some control in a world he very well could not transform. He was thankful for the things he had though. Tyler had a place to live, a job, and most importantly, he wasn't dead.   
  
He lived in fear and quiet admiration. Fear of the killjoys. Admiration of the killjoys. Fear of being gone. Admiration in the fact he was not so. Fear of what came along at night, because the night was when BL/ind stole people away and replaced them for masks. The mask of the same image, once more.   
  
It had happened once, to a childhood friend named Mark when they were 14. From what he remembered, Mark was nice, a BL/ind standard with his brown hair and blue eyes and whatnot. Until one day his family stopped showing up for weekly community dinner. Tyler was a little upset but he got over it, he had his brother to play with anyways. The next week Mark showed up to dinner and then the cracks began to show.   
  
The New Mark and his family were so close to being real it spooked Tyler out. He never told anyone, never told anyone he could tell the mother's piercing glare was stabbing him down. The West-East was no Battery City, the fated capital of the country, but Tyler soon realized BL/ind held a very strong grip on them all. And he would join the ranks with Mark if he even shown the slightest appearance toward that.  
  
He hadn't talked to New Mark or his brother or his mom in god knows how long. He left the West-East as fast as possible, the facade of open space too stifling. The replace Tyler supplied wasn't any better though. Living in the hub almost made it worse, but it was comforting in a way, edging closer and closer still to death in the place where it would matter the least. So he got a job at the source of the problem.

In the time passed, the years since New Mark had shown up, Tyler had gotten very good at lying. All the thoughts in his head remained in his head, as far as anyone was concerned, he was a plain old plain old. Tyler went to work at BL/ind. Tyler went home after BL/ind. Tyler’s life had started to revolve around the company years ago.

But sometimes at night he couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the people taken away in the twilight. Were they blasted away, stolen by the sun and up into the sky? Sometimes, when some of the towers he built up in his mind were lowered, he hoped that Mark had become a killjoy.

As Tyler made his way to the high rise, clocking in three minutes before 10 am, he made his way to his desk and started to work. It was tedious, and he was practically working against the very idea that stood in his bones, but it was not death. He didn’t want to die quite yet. Tyler had plans. They were still formulating, and had been for several years, but he felt it. Maybe he could transform it.

Everyone working for Better Living sat down at their station and began to work. It was much like a clock, systematically destroying each and every rebel. Their efforts in Zone Tracker Sector 3 was solely find anyone out there and then notify the higher-ups. Then, presumably, the Draculoids or the Scarecrows would eat them alive. Tyler didn’t really want to think about it.

He did, however, have a comprehensive list of almost everyone out there. The Zones stretched forever, winding wide and as dry as the shriveled books, from his old house in West-East Tyler could faintly see Zone 6 opening its tendrils to the whole of West-East, like a octopus crushing its prey. It had scared him, that people were so close that were so wrong. But then he had started to hate the government, so he didn’t really know anymore.

Back then, Zone 6 was classified as “MidWest-Megadrought Area 4” which was a mouthful for any child, even if he was then a soon-to-be teenager. His mother had told him to not worry when Tyler expressed his worry that they too would become MidWest-Megadrought Area 5. But the Fires and all the chaos of 2013 happened, and the Areas were suddenly the Zones and no one said MidWest anymore.

So he had a list of every fugitive, definitely every Zone Runner, and maybe all of the Killjoys. He had identified them after all. He just relayed the news to the Bosses. Tyler sat at his desk, ready for another day’s work in beautiful Battery City when he spotted a peculiar note on his desk. A flash of fear spread like an atomic bomb through him.

He smiled, thin-lipped and made his way out, clutching the note out.

Best behavior from then on out, because he had a meeting with the CEO of the living world.

The BLI buildings looked the same, all whitewashed and too shiny for Tyler. The West-East was full of trees, dark and grey, and the city was full of lights. He didn’t have a preference for either. Everything in his world was either too dark or too bright. He didn’t have much of a direction he was going in.

Tyler couldn’t run. Not from Better Living. He couldn’t join the ranks of a Zone Runner, not in the heart of civilization. It would be suicide before he officially signed his soul off, not that he hadn’t already. Tyler could've been a mechanic. He probably should've gone into bot repair, but Job Choices was so long ago and he didn’t know the shit he knew now.

It was naive to think he could change the world from within, and it was even more naive to think that BLI wasn’t going to be tracking him for abnormal behavior. So Tyler made a pit stop into the shiny white BLI bathroom, where he was sure he was being watched anyways. The next few moves would have to be much more deliberate than he anticipated.

He used the restroom, cleaning his hands as normal as he could possibly remember how. There were no mirrors in BLI bathrooms, something about breeding contempt. Tyler had paid a lot of attention to what he was taught back then, but hours of mindless searching in Sector 3 blew his brains out. It was probably because everything was drenched in a glossy coat. Very minimalistic, BLI.

This could possibly be the last time he would wash his hands. Oh dear. He was probably going to die. It would be the last time he would skip every tile outside his apartment. The time was up for washing hands though, if he wanted to keep any semblance of the calm he once held. He made his way out the shiny white door and back into another shiny white hallway.

Then the only way left for Tyler to go was toward danger.

“Excuse me, my name is Tyler Joseph I, uh, have a meeting somewhere... the note was pretty cryptic,”

He had reached the first reception desk on the 5th floor. This was the highest he had ever gotten, officially. The highest level he worked at, which would be saying something considering the building had an upward of at least 100 floors. Tyler assumed the CEO would be at the top, ruling over the world in cold, calculated thoughts.

The receptionist, who looked suspiciously vacant and possibly an early model of a pornodroid, led him to the elevator, the one Tyler had glimpsed at during lunch breaks and wondered about. First of all, the elevator of his dreams was roped off, a mechanical rope of sorts that would probably get Tyler fired and probably tased if he dare lay a finger on it. He had wanted to go in the elevator since he first saw it, but now that the day had finally come, it felt much less like an exploration and much more a death sentence.

He entered the elevator hesitantly, slightly confused as it was quite literally a metal box. As he opened his mouth to inquire, the doors closed all too quickly and then the elevator began to move. Much to his surprised, his great golden elevator moved down. It had never occurred to Tyler that there was more than just a storage basement. Perhaps he should have been more observant.

It was hard for him not to appear as scared shitless as Tyler was in that moment. His heart began to roar in his head, and his lungs couldn’t work as fast as he wanted, except for he had to breathe normally because he was a normal man in this circumstance. A normal man who wanted to revolt, to spread color to the dimness of the West-East. To scorch in the sand of Zone 6. His skin was crawling.

He was an alright mess. And BLI was watching as Tyler moved farther and farther away from Sector 3.

Ding.

The elevator doors opened and Tyler didn't want to step out. It was scary out there. Actually, it was pretty scary in the elevator itself, but at least it was pretty and gold tinted. The area outside the elevator was dark and probably as monochromatic as the bathrooms. And he would probably get killed outside the elevator.

A voice rang out somewhere, saccharine and confirming his fate.

"Oh Tyler."

**[...blind]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i had this chapter written already and i did very minimal work to it other than change some formatting so message me about any and all mistakes 
> 
> personally when i started thinking about the Danger Days Universe i didn't believe that it could take place in such a small space so i have blown up the zones. Tyler is still from Ohio, but the Zones basically take up all of the West and parts of the Midwest. im still figuring this out though so anything is up for change. 
> 
> im not sure how i feel about this chapter but you know what this is fanfiction
> 
> i have the whole story mapped out right now, including 3 other "books" so we'll see where this fanfic can go


	3. Fun Ghoul I

"Hey, getta load of this, Poison!"  
  
The man spoken to was none too pleased, mind completely set on trying to fix a broken radiation machine. They were out quasi-hunting in Zone 4 with the scent of the dust and early morning radiation. Poison was never quite sure what they were looking for when he and Ghoul went out for a drive, but it usually resulted in something, so he continued. However, he took up his hands and makeshift tools and made his way to the much smaller man. The car would probably work for now.  
  
"It's a small fry!"  
  
"Stop yelling or we're gonna get ghosted, Ghoul."  
  
But indeed there lay a small fry, a kid, sleeping in the zones. The kid, a girl looking figure, was in clothes that in no way were suited for the zones, heavy, heavy stuff that was bound to giver her sickness. If he was still in the hub, he would've sent her away, out of the desert where no one really could survive. If he were in the hub, all the small ones would be straight in the middle, as far away from the heat as possible. The sun sucked life dry, until they could find you, a sick shell high off the fumes.  
  
Poison wasn't at a hub or the hub, though. And there was a girl laying there. It then occurred to him that she could very well be sucked dry too. He glanced around for body bags, looking for the source. All the red radiation head got though was a sight full of sand, the occasional cacti bleeding its way up to the Zones.  
  
"She's not sun bathing," Fun Ghoul answered the question, kicking dust. It was harder to tell with children, if they were out there burning down on purpose. With a purpose. A small fry sent out to die. It made Poison a little angry, and he was sure Ghoul was at the same level, if not more heated.   
  
"Dusted, for sure though"   
  
The other man looked up at Poison, looking for the approval. Poison wasn't quite sure how he ended up being the one people started looking to, but he tentatively took the role. He sighed, surveying the area around him once more. Drier than the ex-sea, nothing was around other than the vintage van they found.

Ghoul had a field day with the thing, "This has got to be from 2013 at least! Poison, we need it."  Poison had said no after examining its parts. There wasn’t much to it, the paint was shot and it seemed the interior was cooking for a thousand years.   
  
"Let's take the Girl, the others are waiting anyways"  
  
Fun Ghoul complied, gingerly taking the girl, still unresponsive to the outside world, and setting her in the car.   
  
"Let's zap out of here"   
  
And leaving a trail of dust and red radiation, the two killjoys and a small fry left the zone. They made it halfway to Dr. D's before they caught something on the radio. In between the empty static, someone was talking to them. Poison looked at Ghoul quizzically, and Ghoul stared right back at Poison.   
  
"No thesis existed for burning cities down at such a rampant rate, no graphics-"   
  
The radio was ready to explode. Ghoul banged on the thing in an attempt to fix it, shaking dust off the plastic that had most definitely seen better days.  
  
"I knew it was busted but what's this noise?"   
  
Poison didn't know what to say, so he glanced back at the girl and gripped the wheel tighter as Ghoul banged on it once more. The woman had stopped screaming at them behind the static but before the car radio gave out completely, a voice, clear as the clouds in the sky broke through.   
  
"Are you ready for another bad poem?"

**[..waiting...]**

The girl in the backseat was coming to.

The car ride had been silent after the radio glitched out, leaving the rising cloud of dust behind them. A solid hour of riding at least. Route Guano was a no-no, not in the middle of the day. Poison wasn’t too sure if the girl wasn't dead after the initial freak out. They could be carrying an empty corpse.

Fun Ghoul noticed the girl shaking her head confusedly first, dust and grime falling off like raindrops in an acid storm.

So she wasn’t ghosted.

Ghoul nudged Poison, who was gripping the wheel too tightly in slight anxiousness. They couldn’t just take a kid. Pluck a child out of the desert, and try to maintain a certain type of calm while handling a small factor war. This was crazy. He was going out of it. Gone. They were all goners.

“So, uh, how are you doing?” He asked anyway, because they did pluck a girl out of the desert.

The girl then realized where she was. And promptly began to freak out. Eyes widening and heart flashing, she was on visible high alert as soon as the words left Poison’s lips. Then she pulled out a zapper, chipped and most likely in desperate need of repair. A broken zapper, with its part missing and precautions clearly gone, gave anyone in the nearest vicinity a threat. And luckily for the three, they were in a deathtrap of a car.  

“Whoa, Small Fry, calm down!”

The car was full of thick tension as everyone lurched forward, thanks to Poison who decided that slamming on the brakes was a good decision. She wasn’t too fazed by it though, as the gun maintained its position cocked and ready, a red flasher. Ghoul was shocked? Surprised? Immensely worried that they were going to explode in the shitty ass retro car and surrender their bodies to BLI? A combination of multiple things, but mainly the death thing. Poison was on it already, and for good reason too because Ghoul was ready to start cursing things out.

“Hey, hey, no reason for you to point a zapper at us, we found you in the desert on a zone run and took you in for help.”

Poison was some sort of magician. Ghoul was sure of it, because he managed to somehow turn a ball of anxiousness and viable threats to the health of them all into some girl. Some girl with a zapper. They were stopped in the middle of the Zones, and Party Poison himself was coaxing a girl to not kill them all.

“Who are you?”

She didn’t answer Ghoul, which kind of hurt his feelings. He wasn’t that scary, or mean, if anything Fun Ghoul was the best one of the fated four killjoys. He had regular people hair. Regular colored hair at least, BLi didn’t approve of anything past the collar, but Poison’s flaming head or even Jet’s huge ball of hair was way more uncommon. Ghoul was approachable. Poison was giving him a look, which was uncalled for because the question was not intruding in the slightest.

“It’s okay, do you know who you are?”

The girl shook her head, and Poison just nodded, turned around, and went back to driving. Ghoul turned forward too, checking for perimeter of the offbeat road they were taking. He glanced back at the girl, who seemed confused but relieved they hadn’t kicked her out to soak up the rays.

Hey, at least trigger happy Kobra wasn’t here to shoot everyone down immediately. Ghoul loved the guy, but damn, as soon as danger came up, Kobra closed his eyes and hoped for the best. It got a little better after Poison literally dragged him out for shooting practice, but it was still pretty bad.

“We’ll be at our place in a few,"

Ghoul, looked to Poison. There was no way they were taking a random Small Fry out back to HQ, that would be risky as hell.After moments of endless sand, Ghoul realized where they were going. Straight to Destroya himself.

There was a huge metal head in the middle of the desert, and it just so happened to be infested with low life scum, sun addicts and whatnot. As far as Ghoul knew, and he didn't know much, droids tried making the journey out to fall worship to their God. Ghoul hadn't picked up a copy of the Graffiti Bible in years, but apparently this was the resting place of the Man himself.

Too bad everyone there was filthy.

So Party was going to ditch the Girl here?

Ghoul took a sharp glance to the man in question as the head got bigger and bigger.

"You live here?"

The Girl certainly didn't sound very certain about her fate. Ghoul almost felt bad for being offended that she wouldn't answer his questions. He tried to offer comfort again.

"Listen Kid,"

"We have no reason to trust you right now, so we're going to lay here until we can figure this out."

Okay, so Poison was really cutting it sharp after he had been so lovey dovey 20 minutes ago. There was the leader everyone in the Zones knew. More importantly, there was the leader people got intimidated by, stoic and all hero like. But if this was some new bot BLi was springing on them, the color Ghoul surprised, because that was a major upgrade. Last time they had just sent blood and bones, no matter how brainwashed they were.

They stopped a little ways from the site, hiding the car as much as they could. No one could ever know with these people, the exposure made their minds toasted. As soon as the car was sorted out, Ghoul moved Poison aside.

"What happened to Dr. D's, huh?"

"Listen, you know we just can't take a random guy out there, it could blow everything."

"Yeah I know but here? With the bathers and addicts? If we lose her then she's ghosted for sure out here,"

"There are people here who can let us stay, I'm going to contact either Kobra or Jet tonight and get us going by tomorrow,"

Ghoul just nodded, because there was literally no way he could argue. He vaguely gestured toward the Girl, who wasn't trying hard to not look like she wasn't listening in on everything they said.

"Stay with us unless you want to turn to dust,"

The Girl just nodded, her hair waving back and forward. It reminded Ghoul of Jet's hair almost, in all its glory. He kind of liked her by now. Ghoul always had a soft spot for kids, okay.

The three walked into that base like it was some old film Ghoul had once seen when he was a real small fry. It was they were superheroes going to kick some retro butt. That was when superheroes stuck to the screen and didn't manifest itself in people, because Party Poison was practically a superhero out in the Zones. The place got really silent when they first stepped in, no matter how epic as Ghoul assumed it was.

"Well look who it is,"

The voices were hoarse, full of a soft scorn. Most of the thin bodies were indebted to Poison, and by extension Ghoul, in some way, but it wasn't like anyone appreciated things in these parts anyways. The sun was just starting to go down in the Zones, stealing precious tanning time.

"What happened to all those promises," some woman yelled, like nails screeching on rubber. The Girl stepped a little closer to the two.

"All we've seen is war and you bother to bring a Small Fry,"

They were getting a little agitated, it wouldn't be much longer before they turned rabid. As much as Ghoul understood the ray process, sometimes he couldn't really tell when the sun or the man was talking. The sun bleached hair, the crispy ends, the chapped lips. Nothing was right with bathers.

"Ignore them, they're getting off their high," Ghoul whispered to the Girl because he really was warming up to her. Not that he had dropped all his initial suspicion, but he had dropped a lot of it. She was like a little version of Jet Star kind of. Quiet and afro-like.

Poison was on a mission, boy did he think fast. Ghoul was pretty sure this was all on the spot. He had no idea what was going on, but then again, most of Poison’s plans weren’t exactly clear until he had fully fleshed it out.

“I’m looking for Stump,” Poison said in response to the bathers.

“Why ya lookin for him?”

Poison didn’t answer the bather, but Ghoul wanted to know the answer too. Stump was first of all, batshit crazy, and second of all, really really freaky. He was more of a myth out near D’s Diner, like everything else in the Zones became until someone brings back proof. But Stump was on another plane of existence, myth wise. The most Ghoul had heard about him came from quiet whispers that were gone with the heat seconds later.

There were a lot of rumors about a lot of people in the Zones, like how Mad Gear was really a robot, or how Debby the Bather was really a Black and White. Ghoul hadn’t really looked into general gossip, most of it was bull, but Stump’s mystery held his attention way longer than Debby.

“He’s over there,” some guy nodded his head over towards the dilapidated house a few yards away.

“Don’t expect any help.”

Another woman spat at them, the skin slowly peeling off as her body strained to make the water she had so willingly gave to the desert. The Girl moved right next to Poison, scared a lot more than the Ray incident earlier.

And so they made their way to Stump, leaving the crying bodies behind them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i havent checked this so it's going out as written, so message me about any and all mistakes. i have this whole story planned but updates are going to be slow sorry )): 
> 
> and even when i plan this whole story, i find myself adding more so we'll see what happens. on a plus side i found a way to put panic in, but a lot of elements will not show up until i finish this story and move onto the next arc i guess.
> 
> work and progress and all


	4. Josh Dun I (part 1)

Josh had been running for awhile now. He had crossed so many zones, and met so many people everything was becoming one giant radioactive mess in his head. It had been years stacked on years since he had left the West-East and marked himself as a fugitive. Sometimes he wished he had gone back to his family the day he left. But if that happened, Josh would be dead on the dim streets of West-East.

But Josh was already dead.

He went by Dun now, which wasn’t too slick, but he couldn’t make Alien or Crash work as much as he tried. He ran away from all that loved and joined the sun. He was out in Megadrought zones before everything went to shit even. He was a zonerunner before zonerunning became well known, laying low and causing general ruckus in populated cities.

Josh wasn’t that original though. He wasn’t a leader. He may practically be a crash kid but when the role was offered, Josh declined. Instead, leading them all was the Fab Four themselves, and in the midst of war Josh somehow lost his status as a First and melded into the masses of unhappy people. He was fine with that.

And when the war was over he remained a nobody, until the Killjoys made him a somebody again.

**[the natural state...]**

“Yo Dun, pass the coke.”

“Haha, very funny.” Josh deadpanned, tossing a drink to Jet Star.

“No one says Coke anymore because it’s so outdated.”

“Thank you for your contribution Kobra, it’s really appreciated.”

“Hey, you can’t say it’s not true.”

“Yea, but I can say my jokes are ghosted.”

Josh turned away from the two, taking a glance at Dr. D. They exchanged glances for awhile, not really settling to an agreement between eyes. Josh always found it weird Dr. D was kinda cold to him. He certainly seemed to love the Killjoys, who ran away just as Josh had when they too were too young to truly understand. Maybe it was because Josh was a coward.

He still referred to himself as Josh first of all, and he was fairly sure he was the only one to use an old name. Poison had dumped his old name before he even met Josh, Kobra trailing soon behind. Josh always seemed to stand in that edge of citizen and outlaw, and Dr. Death Defying himself seemed to pick up on that ever since he was a kid.

Josh left when he was barely gracing 14, all awkward and everything. He had been barely surviving before Dr. D found him running away from some black and whites. Josh would probably be in a body bag if it weren’t for Dr. D, and he was really grateful and all but for real, that dude just didn’t like him.

He knew Dr. D when he could still walk, they started up a correspondence after Josh bothered him about it. In the beginning, Dr. D had told Josh to go back home. That was clearly not an option, so little 14 year old Josh had stayed with him until he couldn’t handle it anymore. They spent a fair few months together, just them and the blinding sun. After the sixteenth time they had been ambushed that month, Josh ran away in the night, the heat still permeating his skin until he felt like a piece of sand. Sometimes he wonders what Dr. D felt like when he woke up to silence and a hastily written note on the closest thing Josh found saying “I’ll mail you when I find the place to do it.”

Josh wants to know what his former “mentor” thought when Josh really did send him letters. And sometimes he thinks that Dr. D really thinks Josh is a skeleton walking, that maybe he’s a skin instead. That would explain why Josh ran away from everything, including Dr. D.

He left as a child, and he came back to the Zones 4 inches taller and with blue hair.

When he returned, the Killjoys were there, and Josh became Something to Dr. D and the Zones again. They had momentarily thrust leader at him, and he quickly deflected it onto Poison. Party, who had far less experience running. Party, who was a stark contrast red to Josh’s blue. Party, who Dr. D admires more than he had ever Josh.

“I’m going out,” Josh said suddenly, grabbing a zapper and nodding at Jet and Kobra. He didn’t acknowledge D. He was steaming a bit. Josh left before he saw Dr. D shake his head and return back to the radio, tracing his fingers over an old and faded note written on the wrapper of a food can.

**[...of my rhythm]**

It was always fucking too hot outside, and it was a shame the Zones was the one place he wouldn’t be killed on the spot because it really sucked to live in the heat. Josh hopped into his dying car and drove off. He stole the car after he left Dr. D, it had blended in pretty well over at West-East, but now the cars were far more minimalist in the cities and there was no way he could get an upgrade. Moments later, Josh was cruising down Route Guano, taking in the mindless, oversaturated scenery when he heard a loud rumble behind him.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, moving the car into third gear. On the horizon, a whole host of BLI cars were chasing after him, small specks that didn’t fit with the too bright aesthetic of the Zones. Josh glanced behind him, and gripped the wheel more tightly and floored the gas. The junk of a car wouldn’t last a whole chase in the zones, there were still zap scars on the paint from the last scuffle. Not to mention the specks weren’t just black and white dots in the distance of the desert anymore.

There was a huge cloud of smoke being picked up, and that’s when the guns started going off. Josh ducked over the wheel as the already cracked back window shattered. He took his zapper and started shooting blindly behind him, one hand on the wheel as he swerved to the left. He had to get out of there, back to Dr. D’s, to the Nest, anywhere but death.

He was racing back the other way now, back towards anything, anyone. The dust was getting in the car but he couldn’t see what was in front of the car anyways. Josh began to cough as the backseat window shattered.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-”

He crashed into a Bli van, and he wondered if he was going to come back from this too. Dr. Death Defying would be waiting again, waiting for Josh to come back just so he could look at him oddly. Then he felt no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was going to be longer but this was a natural stopping point so the next chapter will more or less be a continuation of the Josh point of view. at this rate this story might end up having a bit more chapters than I anticipated. I do have this all planned, but if updates end up being really slow it's because school is taking me alive
> 
> message me if there are any mistakes (which there probably are, let's face it)


	5. Josh Dun I (part 2)

Josh became again in the middle of darkness.

The only definite thing he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, ragged and increasingly more heavy as he realized that he was trapped. But hey, he also wasn’t dead. That was definitely a pro in the pitch black world of cons he was seeing. And he was sitting in a chair, he was pretty sure of that.

This was worst nightmare kind of stuff, because he couldn’t move. Like bone chilling, can’t feel anything, I'm fucking paralyzed in a death trap, kind of couldn’t move. Josh briefly wondered if he really had died, and this was some sick version of purgatory. Or Hell. Probably Hell. There was a thick band holding his head back to the chair, but that was just about it. Pretty Hellish. If Josh could just move his arms he would be practically good to go.

“You won’t be able to move until they’re done with you,” someone called, out of Josh’s field of view. Josh strained his eyes trying to figure it out, but only dark answered back.

This had to be Hell. He was gone, and there lied the body of Joshua Dun, formerly of the West-East in the flames of his car. He wondered how Dr. D reacted to his death. Out like a fire that was burning for far too long. He was probably a goddamn forest fire to Dr. D, burning everything until there was nothing left. Hey, at least since he was dead, Josh couldn’t feel creepy around D anymore.

“I’m Tyler.” The voice called out suddenly. Josh suddenly got the idea that maybe the other person wanted to see someone as much as he did. Even if he was the Devil. Josh was still straining to see much of anything in the space. Josh wasn’t sure he should answer with his own name. There were too many aliases to keep track of, and he wasn’t even sure he had the ability to answer anymore. Not tied up at least.

Before Josh attempted to say anything, he felt the vague sensation of moving. It was pretty hard to tell when nothing surrounded him, and “Tyler” made no noise noting Josh’s movement. And then Josh saw the light.

Not the actual light, he was pretty sure Heaven was a lot nicer than this.

This light was blinding, but it was almost a relief that he wasn’t actually blind. The darkness and disembodied voice was starting to freak Josh out. He was probably making up Tyler to cope with his death. As his eyes came to, blinking heavily, Josh realized he was truly done for. If he was dead, which he had convinced himself he was at that point, there would be no more saturated summers out in the heat with the people he came to know as his family. If he wasn’t dead, he would be very soon. All paths led to the same solution.

Then, a soft clicking of heels made its way through the room. The Real Devil was making its way to Josh’s chair. The room itself was as interesting as the last room, except it was difinitively white instead of black. Apart from that, nothing gave away except for the quickly approaching clack clack. And then, all was revealed in a whirlwind of fear.

“You’re just perfect for us,” a sweet voice whispered to him behind his ear. Josh, still unable to move, just blinked instead. He could practically taste the bitter cold of the breath, and he could feel his death extremely well in the moment. Smoke, fire, and deadly disease consumed him.

He was beginning to get tired of not being able to see who was talking to him. But a few harsh steps later and the final curtain was removed before his very eyes. In the uncomfortable chair in the basement of BLi complex number 4 Joshua Dun, formerly of West-East Zone 6, was made anew.

He felt his head explode in the absence of nothing. It was an odd feeling, because he certainly couldn’t move, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel. And Josh began to feel everything. The words were swirling around him in the nothing, among other things. He swore he saw his mother in the distance, and felt her touch as he was whipped away elsewhere.

**[...my child...]**

**[...do not suffer...]**

And then he was back in the West-East.

“Joshua get over here, we are trying to take a picture!”

His mother was trying to get him take a picture for a Christmas card. By then, Christmas had been so antiquated, and Josh was honestly having none of it. No one celebrated holidays anymore, religious or otherwise. He was never sure who exactly got those Christmas cards, and Josh definitely saw his mother stamping them for the post.

And there was his family.

His brother and sisters stood there stiffly as his mother called for him again. Josh didn’t know whether he should move, if the illusion would fall apart as soon as he took a breath. He was frozen in fear of what was, and would happen. Somewhere, in a faint whisper, his mind told him that this wasn’t happening, but how Josh had wanted it. His mom was starting to get angry as he stumbled toward his family.

“Are you okay Joshua? Are you getting sick?”

Josh loved his mother, he really did. She looked at him, worried before turning back to the camera. She wouldn’t hire a photographer. Duns were stubborn, a trait Josh was pretty sure skipped him. With her soft ferocity, she pressed the button on the camera and ran to her spot next to Josh. The camera flashed before Josh could really took in his surroundings. After the lights disappeared from his sight, and before his mom could whisk him away into the closest infirmary for being fucking crazy during family photos, he got a good look and became acutely aware of everything he was missing.

He hadn’t seen a real tree in years.

The sky wasn’t burning them alive.

There was grass on the ground and the asphalt didn’t smell of burnt rubber.

The distinct freedom of the West-East was so peculiar to Josh. These small liberties, mirroring the early 21st century aesthetic was so radically different from anything Josh had ever encountered. He wasn’t part of a machine here.

His brother and sisters made their way back into the house. They were like 10, so he couldn't blame them for not making small talk. Josh wasn't really sure how old he was. Of course he knew his age now, but in the weird dream state he was taller than his mother, which was something he never got to experience. No one had grown except for him.

And a sick realization hit him like a motorcycle into a light-train.  
  
"Okay Joshua, if you want to go with your friends you better come home by tonight," his mother said, standing next to him.  
  
"I know how much you care about them."   
  
Josh swallowed weakly, anxiety blossoming. This wasn't right. He wanted them back but he didn't want this.  
  
"Hey Mom, can I have that picture we took?"  
  
His mother looked at him inquisitively because he was being real weird, but Josh knew that time was running out. He needed a momento for this dream. Something to ground him. Josh needed the trees and the sky and his siblings.   
  
They were the last ones back into the house. The actual day of, Josh had never come back at all, not really. He left as fast as possible, and ran and ran and ran. He lingered outside the door for a moment, smelling the clean air for just a second longer before stepping into his only real home.  
  
The silence lasted for a moment.  
  
"Put your hands down!"  
  
The door gave way with ease, crashing to the ground before Josh was grabbed and dragged into the living room by a black and white. The carpet looked so lovely and white as his head was shoved into the ground. It didn't really hurt, not after dying, he was still dead. The rest of his family was getting rounded up too, he could hear his sister crying.   
  
They were all too good to deserve this. If news he heard were true, they would be shot in the head one at a time, until the only Dun left was Josh. The grip around him loosened slightly, the black gloves no longer pushing him against the ground. Josh hedged a look at everyone else and found his mother doing the same to him down the line. They we all on their knees. Begging.   
  
Here's the thing though, the Duns never begged. His father fought, springing up and almost taking one down before he was shot in the head. Josh blinked, unable to receive what he just saw. He completely stood up, he had to do something anything.   
  
"Joshua!" His mother screamed before he sprang himself onto a BLi, tussling the gun out of its hand and shooting every mask he could see.   
  
"We don't beg," he whispered before falling to the ground, staining the carpet with his blood.  
  
~~~  
  
"That was even more impressive than I thought it was going to be."  
  
Josh opened to his eyes, the second time in a day he remembers dying. His breathing was a lot more ragged for being not dead, but there he was, back in the white room.   
  
"Where, where are you?" He whispered.   
  
"What a good question," The voice answered back. It wasn't Tyler. It was that sickly sweet clickity clack voice from earlier.   
  
"You don't get many who skip straight to me."  
  
He heard a rustling behind him. Josh wasn't that sure what the fuck they had done to his head yet, but as he tried to regain control of his spiraling life right then, a very beautiful woman came into view. It wasn't like Josh was stopped stone cold, he wasn't that shallow. It was more of a mild shock. This girl was more pretty than his mother even. She seemed like such a derivative from the regular BL/ind employee and it kinda spooked Josh how much he was entranced.   
  
"Because you know what Joshua? It's all about you."   
  
All he could see was her, literally and figuratively. She came closer, heels clicking on the smooth floor. In a way it reflected the state he was in, reduced to a quivering mess on the floor. And inside he could feel something leaving him, he wasn’t really sure what happened, but something clicked. With each slow, deliberate step, the more the fog cleared out of his eyes. Josh wasn’t sure if his initial shock was just rose tinted glasses or what, because as the horrible heels gots closer and closer yet he found himself not so entranced by her beauty. The harsh lines seemed to cut into his skin.

She was an arms length away, poised like she either wanted to fuck or kill Josh. It probably leaned towards kill. Her arms held something Josh couldn’t see, still stuck in the chair. Josh had pretty much kinda gotten over the fact he couldn’t really move at all without being restrained. He could get back to that when some lady wasn’t trying to mess with him.

“It will wear off soon,” She said, licking her lips slightly. At least that’s what Josh thought. It was kinda very super creepy. He focused on the ground instead. If he couldn’t see the eyes, then maybe he could pretend that it wasn’t happening right now.

“But until then, I will tell you the plan.”

Josh was going to be sick.

_**[...oh, my child...]** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry about the wait
> 
> i promise that i havent abandoned this
> 
> i was actually going to make this a bit longer but i cut it off for another chapter  
> im sorry im sorry
> 
> there's probably mistakes, message me with typos or something, it's up to you man


	6. FUN GHOUL II

Poison was really anxious. He masked it really well, but Ghoul knew better. This whole deal with the Girl was freaking them both out. It was probably just blowing itself out of proportion, but a random girl appeared in the middle of the _Zones._ It wasn’t like they were out in the city grocery shopping.

They got to the house, the spit of the addicts behind them. Poison looked to Ghoul, who looked at the Girl and back at Poison again, and then nodded. The door opened before Poison even bothered to pick up a shiny gloved hand of his. Ghoul was more freaked out than before. This was some spooky ass retro shit. Old houses, creaking doors, it was practically out one of those movies Kobra made them watch a couple months ago. The Small Fry burrowed even closer to Ghoul as he was reminded of her presence again. Oh yeah, she was the reason they were here.

“Stump?” Poison called out, already well into the house with one hand on his zapper. Ghoul applauded his courage, well he usually already did that but this was actually dangerous as fuck. It was one thing to fight back in the heat, and it was another thing to jump into the fire. Ghoul wasn’t sure what they were really doing right then, but Poison had the guts to do it. He closed the door behind them, the Girl latched to his pants practically.

And then a short old man walked in.

  
Okay, he wasn’t that short because Ghoul was distinctly aware that he was not that much taller than the guy, but Stump, the legend, had like 7 years on Ghoul at least. At least. That was ages, especially in the zones. Okay, so maybe “Stump” wasn’t as old as Dr. D but it was still weird to see some fabled being who didn’t reach expectations at all. Ghoul wasn’t sure what he was thinking of.

“What do _you_ want from me? Of all people, I wasn’t expecting two of the Killjoys to be here.”

Ghoul let Poison do the talking, choosing instead to check out the shitty old house. It was pretty sparsely decorated. He wouldn’t want to live here. There was no way bugs wouldn’t crawl into the space, as decrepit and shabby as the boards stood. This was where the fated Stump lived, in a blasted old shack.

Everyone knew about Stump.

The stories were different each time someone told Ghoul. Stump was an ex-BLi robot who defected and lost his hand trying to escape. No, he was actually the man who threw the match into the Helium Wars, the man they should be worshipping. As soon as one person’s story passed their lips, another one was being told miles outward. Ghoul personally believed he was a myth until now. Poison, apparently, had known otherwise.

The only thing that seemed to connect all the stories was the hand. He glanced back at Poison and Stump, looking for the sign. Arms crossed, something shiny glinted from Stump’s sleeve. It was true, and something grew inside Ghoul that he couldn't place. Somewhere else inside him, Ghoul hoped that they wouldn’t end up like Stump. Alone in a shack full of sun addicts, no hand and no friends.

“Listen, I can’t help you.”

Poison looked visibly distressed as Ghoul returned his focus back to the conversation. The Girl was also listening intently, almost forgetting about where she was. Her tight grasp had fallen from Ghoul's shirt.  
  
"You gotta help us, you're the one this whole prophecy thing came from!"  
  
Stump shrugged before turning his back onto them, the worn leather creasing and the faded logo sparking something in Ghoul's memory. He couldn't really tell what it was though. It was probably vintage as shit, lost in the past.

“You know you can’t control fate right?” Stump rebutted, moving behind the dusty counter in what was probably a kitchen unit years ago. Poison blanched a little bit, biting his tongue. Ghoul admired the strength his friend had, the restraint. He was ready to bolt outta there. It was obvious Stump didn’t want them there, or anyone really. The shack was essentially inhospitable. 

“But we can control ourselves, that’s gotta mean something. You can’t just amount everything to fate! If the prophecy is true then-”

“I’m sorry.”

Ghoul looked Stump again as Poison faltered once more. The legend wasn’t so legendary after all. There wasn’t a war hero, or a ex-convict. Ghoul saw an old man in the middle of god-fucking-nowhere. The worst part was that he looked legitimately sorry.

Then Ghoul’s radio buzzed.

All four of them jumped, cutting into the growing silence, as Ghoul flipped it open.

**FG-PP TRANSMISSION:**  
**ALIEN BOY HAS BEEN TAKEN. CAR 20 MI E WELL. BLI HUNTING.**  
**END TRANSMISSION**

Stump smiled softly as Poison headed for the door, Ghoul and their girl steps behind him. Hand on the door, Poison and Ghoul looked back to where Stump still leaned against the counter. He looked less sorry now, more like one of those fortune tellers that acted like they knew everything.

“We’ll be back, and next time you’re going to help us.”

Ghoul made eye contact with Stump. It was probably a mirage of the dust and a result of his rising heartbeat, but Stump’s eyes flashed another color momentarily, too quickly for anyone to notice. Holy shit. And there was something else in his hand, too dark for Ghoul to figure it out. In a perfect arc, the Girl catches the object, her confused face mirroring the his own.

“Then go,” Stump says, turning away and walking into another room. Poison took word and led them outside with a start, remembering what had just interrupted the tense moment. They began running, Ghoul looking down at the thing in the Girl’s hand. It was just a plastic ball, black and probably the one thing in that shack that wasn’t dusty.

They jumped in the car, leaving the addicts and the ex-legends behind them.  
There was a missing man to worry about.

_**[help is always on the way]** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit happy new year its been like 2 months
> 
> I didn't edit this that much so its probably riddled with mistakes.
> 
> Stump will be back, but he's old, all his friends are dead, and I like that dumb trope of legends not living up to their status.
> 
> I'm still on break for another day so I might crank out another chapter this week. ((Don't keep your fingers crossed though, sorry))


	7. Tyler Joseph II

_**[help is on the way]** _

The other guy was back. Tyler hadn’t been so sure he was real. He wasn’t sure of anything now. There was a lot of people that came and went, but he couldn’t tell if they were real or not. That was the most annoying part. He just wanted this to end.

That woman, real or not, was doing a real spell on his mind.

“Are you real?” Tyler asked, because it was a real and valid question. He had nothing else to lose, the sanity was go ne a long time ago. Years ago, days ago, he wouldn’t have laid himself so low, begging for someone else. But that was then and now he was impaired, a little bit. The other guy didn’t answer, and in the darkness Tyler couldn’t tell if it was because he was unconscious or a part of his imagination. But then he had bigger fish to worry about, because the lights were turning back on.

The darkness meant it was over.

The light was when she came back.

_**[...we will meet where there is no darkness...]** _

People would come for him in maybe 3.8 seconds, and Tyler would be dragged back into that room. He always thought his mind was safe from others, but when life keeps rolling on, Tyler realized that everyone had access. Or it sure seemed that way. Better Living was very thorough.

She would talk to him, or forgo the talking and just get to the meaty part. The part that messed with his mind. Somewhere Tyler registered what was going on, and he was faintly aware of noticing things he hadn’t been able to do before, but damn did it hurt. As far as he could tell, the long metal stick was shoved up his brain and twisted around like a lobotomy. Tyler learnt about lobotomies somewhere between the sessions of the sharp stabs to the head. Or maybe it was before that. He couldn’t remember.

Maybe because of the pain, or maybe because of the huge metal prod coming out of his skull Tyler would begin to hallucinate. This was where life become a little more blurry. Faces of the past swirl around him and one time Tyler remembered trying to grasp his mother, floating away. The woman’s voice was an anchor, but he was pretty sure she was leading him to the wrong shore.  

“Who are you?” Her voice was lulling him into a false sense of something he couldn’t match as the guards came. He couldn’t tell yet. There was only one answer he had for this question. It always started this way. One way in, one way out. No exit routes were left on the way back.  
  
“Tyler Joseph.”

A sharp pain flashed behind his eyes. Wrong answer then, but Tyler had nothing else. Nothing he could actively make out other than that goddamn name. He couldn’t do anything else. Tyler Joseph. Tyler. Tyler something. Tyler someone. He existed.

“We’re going to try this again. Who are you?”

“I told you, I’m Tyler-” He stopped, unable to remember what his last name was. Tyler something, right? He could feel the woman smiling at him, the dark lips quirking up at him. He didn’t need to see to know.

“Smith,” she supplied, and some bells went off in Tyler’s head. That wasn’t right, but he didn’t know what was right, so some part of his mind took it for the truth.

“Your name is Tyler Winston Smith, you have _always_ dreamed of zonerunning, and eventually, Tyler, that dream will come true.”

The pain increased, and Tyler couldn’t open his eyes even if he wanted to. Instead, he heard things. The woman was there, feeding him some story, but there were the others too. They whispered strange things to him, on the same path of what the woman was saying but way more demented.

“The first step is to learn the truth, Tyler.”

Then he was back in the past. It always ended here, and Tyler felt some semblance of relief as he realized the last lap of the race was there. Among the voices and hallucinations was the same scene over and over again. He was in the forest, back at home. Tyler couldn’t for the life of him remember where home was, but the comforting touch of the natural trees told him it was home. He had to hold onto this. This was the truth.

“Tyler, you need to remember,” his mother appeared next to him, pleading.

But he had come to learn that the people in this dream were not real. Nothing was real. This was simply a false memory. Only the place was real. That he was sure of. So Tyler continued looking forward, searching in the canopy of leaves for something else.

“What’s my name?” He asked aloud, as if expecting an answer.

In the beginning, he killed his mom in the dream. He saw the color leave her skin as she lay ashen on the floor of the forest. It was like a bomb had exploded, and he had committed the crime. Eventually he learnt to stop fighting, as the bodies piled up. Everyone he had ever known had ended up in the forest with him, and he had killed them all at least once. Sometimes it was a bomb, and sometimes he took a knife and stabbed everyone in the head. To match the metal prod coming out of his own. The anger had subsided though, and he still looked ahead.

“Tyler, you _need_ to remember.”

The voice pulled at something in his heart. His mother never said much else these days, and he turned to look at her. Tyler could feel the pull of the real world reach him once more, as the searing pain returned to his skull. But it wasn’t his mother standing there. Tyler was staring at some man, no, feral creature. The eyes were drawn in, the skin taut over bone. He blinked, and the creature that was his mother blinked back. If the dead came alive once more, the rotten corpse would probably take form like the man that stared back at Tyler.

The reality crushed him like a bomb, and his mind snapped like a twig. Because there was no reality. Tyler was not in a dream, but instead stared at his own reflection, held up by that blasted woman. The creature was him, he was sure of it. The pain increased tenfold, but he could not see any metal prod coming out of his head. He began to see clouds, dark and stormy coming in for rain. The woman was irrelevant, not when the dead body was his own.  

Had he sanity before, it was most certainly gone now. The room filled with ghosts as his knees wobbles and stomach churned. The man staring back at him did the same. Tyler, if he was even Tyler in the first place, seemed a former of his old self, hyperaware of his own ugliness. Nothing was left on his body, the knees larger than thighs, the fingers long and fragile. How long had it been since he had just ate? How long had it been since he was taken here?

What was his name?

“You are Tyler Winston Smith.  
And you are going to the Zones.”  
  
He was Tyler. 

The lights never turned off again.

_**[ and yet help is always on the way]** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one month later... 
> 
> no excuse for this, I had half of this written up for 3 weeks, but didn't push through until today
> 
> s/o if you go the 1984 references, it's my new muse
> 
> I haven't edited this that much so message me with mistakes. 
> 
> (next chapter is Josh's turn, so have fun with that whenever that is posted. I also promise to not abandon this without notice, so know that it will be coming.)


End file.
